The glass is...

This morning I was passed by a car with the license plate "HALFFUL." It made me smile and was an encouragement to spend my day looking through eyes of gratitude. I decided to write things down (on my shopping list pad on the refrigerator) throughout my day that made me smile or that I am thankful for. The day was not without its challenges, but this simple practice certainly did make it seem a whole lot better than it could have been. I thought I'd share part of my list with you:

Just a few of the many things I have to be thankful for today:

• My son fell back to sleep beside me this morning, giving me an extra hour of sleep (and some sweet cuddle time)
• Good, strong coffee
• Not having to wear socks for the first time in months
  
• Being greeted by blue skies and a blooming dogwood tree outside our front door
• Two glorious hours at my Bible study
• My sister-in-law who watched Josiah to make the above possible
• Lucy's Bible study teachers who greet her with smiles and open arms
• Coordinated afternoon naps!
• Hand-me-downs
• Lucy singing Away in a Manger and Joy to the World at the top of her lungs with no regard that Christmas is still 245 days away
  
• My husband's friendships with men of good quality (and that he could go enjoy the Rockies/Cubs game with them tonight)
• Josiah sitting quietly and happily on the floor and playing while I ate my entire dinner!
• Sharing a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie with Lucy before bedtime
• More chocolate chip cookies just for me after she was in bed :)
• A few moments of peace and quiet to reflect and blog

Is your glass half full? Tonight I feel like mine is far more than that.

She Yelled At Us

My mother is one of the most even-tempered people that I know. She is a peacemaker and has a gentle spirit, and love just drips from her like honey. As we were growing up, I rarely remember her raising her voice at us, unless she was calling us in to dinner from the farm across the street or to warn us of impending bodily injury from whatever stunt we were trying to pull. I do recall, however, a certain sound of frustration she would make (kind of a punctuated "grr!") if we tried to reason our way into trouble, but most often that was followed by laughter or at least a smile. I remember her speaking in a serious, stern voice, and my brother asking her to stop 'yelling.' She would softly and slowly reply, "I'm NOT yelling." Even in those times my memory still pictures her as calm, collected, patient, loving, gentle, controlled, with her head and heart in the right place as she loved and cared for us.

Because of this, my brother has long teased our mom that he's going to have "She Yelled At Us" written on her tombstone. We all know there's no truth in that. The irony makes us laugh.

Recently, though, I've been wondering if this quality somehow swam away from me in the gene pool. For as much as I find myself to be so similar to my mom in so many ways, I've been seeing a side of myself that is more hot-headed, quick-tempered, and loud.

Just this morning as I began my day, I was praying for God to help me when I am frustrated to stop, breathe, and think before speaking to my daughter in the kind of tone that I wouldn't want to have directed at me. And if you are a praying person, you understand that when we ask God for something (like patience or restraint), he gives us opportunities (to be patient or to restrain ourselves).

By 10 a.m. I feel like I had blown several opportunities already. I hadn't stopped. I hadn't taken any deep breaths. I hadn't thought. I simply let words spill from my mouth as they ran across my tongue. And why? Because I didn't want to have little wet footprints across my newly mopped kitchen floor. Because I didn't want a pillow fort where my nicely made bed had just been. Because I was on my own agenda and wanted her to understand that Mommy was doing something that I considered important. So instead of interrupting my busyness to take a moment to explain on her level, or to realize that housework is so much less important than my relationship with my children, I just let the words fly however they may at the risk of wounding my own flesh and blood.

I am a work in progress. God is not done with me. I do ask Him for help, but I can't expect Him to do it all for me -- He still gives me choices and opportunities. As I thought back to the silly epitaph that my brother claimed he will use for my mom, I sincerely hope my children will remember me the way I remember my mom when we were growing up. She didn't yell at us. She lived out the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) and was a beautiful example of them to us.

The day is not over. God will give me more opportunities to show His power in my life. Stop. Breathe. Think.

Crawling... or something

Last night, while waiting for bedtime, Josiah moved forward on his hands and knees for the first time! I hesitate to call it 'crawling' -- watch the video and you be the judge...

It was somewhat of a combination of crawling and a commando-style crawl or a hobble using one knee and one straight leg in his 'kickstand' position, and we were fascinated by how he used his toes to propel himself forward. But he definitely got where he intended to go! This morning he's been practicing and has improved even more.

As John said, life is about to change... for us all.

We survived

It is SOOOO good to have my hubby back home. Somehow, we made it nine whole days without him. He wasn't just out of town, but out of the country -- in South Africa for set-up and planning meetings for YFCI's upcoming General Assembly.

I was definitely not looking forward to John's trip. Selfishly, I dreaded playing the part of a single parent for that length of time. I knew it would be exhausting and trying and perhaps emotionally draining dealing with my two precious little ones for that amount of time by myself. But it went surprisingly fast, thanks to a dear friend who planned several things with us during the week and called at other times for me to have some adult interaction, and thanks to many others who were praying for us.

But that wasn't the only reason I didn't want him to go. I didn't want him to be in Africa without me. That used to be my job, my territory, my specialty, the place where my heart was and where I would visit several times each year. I was more than thrilled when I married a man who loved Africa as well, and we were so blessed to take most of our trips there together. When I left my job to become a full-time mom, I knew much of that would come to an end, or at least the regularity. When John took his job at YFCI shortly after I left, I didn't think that the Director of Finance would need to do much traveling. At least not to Africa. At least not without me.

I was jealous. I admit it. But as I faced reality, as I thought about him being there, and as I prayed for him particularly to feel fulfilled in his purpose in being there, I found my heart changing. I was proud that he was needed. I was joyful to know that he had good friendships with these other men and women who would be meeting there from all over the world. I was delighted that he was respected. And I was happy for him. I began to remember what it was like when I would sit at my desk in Denver, working for my African fellows, and feeling like the days dragged on. How I longed to be there and to see them! How much I looked forward to the few weeks at a time that I could be in "the Motherland," as we liked to call it. And here, John was getting just this same kind of opportunity, and I was begrudging him of it!

So over the last nine days, my attitude changed from jealousy and resigning myself to somehow make it through, to joy that my husband was wanted and needed and was getting just a little taste of that face-to-face time in a place we both love to recharge him as he comes back to his desk in Denver.

Boys like noise

I can't say I've seen my 8-month-old son so excited over cause and effect as he was this afternoon. He discovered that he could tip the basket of Mega Blocks toward him to retrieve one block, and then let the basket fall back to its resting position on the floor with a very loud BANG and the satisfying clink of the blocks still inside. Wow! He giggled and smiled and wiggled and looked at me as if to say "Look, mama, this is great!" And then he would do it again. And again. Each time it got louder as he became more bold to let it happen, or to do it on purpose, and his giggle and wiggle got more enthusiastic.

I'm learning each day the inborn differences between girls and boys. Today I learned the pure joy my boy gets from creating noise.

It all comes down to food

We went to the museum this morning since the weather has been pretty cruddy this week and Lucy needed to burn some energy. We tried to hit every exhibit, at least for a few minutes, and even some that we hadn't been to in a long time, to maximize our indoor walking space. As a toddler, there were several exhibits we didn't bother visiting because they would not hold her attention, like the gazillion Butterflies and moths pinned on the wall or looking at meteors in the Space Odyssey, but today she was very interested to at least see what they all had to offer.

Even though the Gems & Minerals exhibit was fairly dark and looked like the shaft of a mine, Lucy was still pretty keen on seeing what was inside. It was very fun for me to see how much she was willing to listen and learn about what we were looking at. And at the risk of tooting my own horn, I must say that I was also somewhat impressed with my own ability to quickly read the descriptions and explanations and then translate them into words on her level. It was challenging and fun, and I could tell she was absorbing new information like a sponge.

She said two things that really stuck with me and made me chuckle to myself. The first was when we were looking at rhodochrosite, the pinkish-redish crystals that grow with some varieties of quartz in big blocks or cubes. I asked her if she thought they were pretty, and she said, "They are pretty! They look kind of like chopped tomatoes! I like tomatoes!"

Then we were looking down into a well-lighted boulder of quartz and seeing how it sparkled, and I said something like, "You see how this big rock is hollow and the pretty crystals grow on the inside?" She replied, "Yeah, it's hollow like our milk chocolate cow that we got for Easter!"

Somehow it all comes down to food! But I was still pleased that she was making these new observations and was in some small way able to relate the new sights to familiar things in her own little life. It was a very pleasant day at the museum and we left satisfied... and hungry.